


stay the night

by emmaofmisthaven



Category: Titans (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Episode Tag, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-30 02:00:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16755715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaofmisthaven/pseuds/emmaofmisthaven
Summary: “That’s my room.”He startles at Kory’s voice. That is definitely not his room, fur coat thrown over a chair and golden rings on a table, her shoes by the bed.No, he definitely got it wrong there.





	stay the night

It takes longer than Dick would like, or is comfortable with, to get settled into a safe place once they leave the asylum. The safe house is a bust, obviously, and although Dick knows a few other Bat-hideouts in the area, he refuses to go there. It would be the smartest thing to do, be on the low for a few days in such a safe and private place, but. He can’t find it in himself to seek out Bruce’s help, not again. Not after everything that happened.

So he lets Kory drive and drive and drive, until the distance between them and the asylum doesn’t make his skin crawl anymore. They find one of those shit motels on the side of the road, booking four rooms for the night and hoping for the best. Or, well, for somewhat good. Dick isn’t even picky anymore at this point.

He makes sure Rachel and her mother are settled down properly, while Kory helps Gar. She’s better at this quiet-and-understanding thing than he could ever be, at least with the younger ones. And Dick is too exhausted not to snap at Gar right now. It’s better if she deals with it for now, if she’s the one to tell him he’s not a monster for what happened – something Dick can’t even tell himself in the mirror, let alone to a traumatised kid he barely knows.

Rachel barely looks traumatised.

Perhaps it should worry him. She still has blood under her nails and grim around her face, but she holds her chin high and proud. Unbothered. He almost expected her to crumble in front of him once her mother locked herself in the bathroom to shower, but she doesn’t. It concerns him even more than Gar’s freak-out, that she takes it so well. That she reminds him of himself at that age, the defence mechanisms, the wall high around his heart. It can’t end well for her. For all of them. So he’ll have to keep an eye on her, to take even more care to help her through all this shit and – that’s it, right. It’s already too much, he didn’t sign up for this, and his throat tightens until he’s struggling to breathe.

“I’ll be next door if you need me,” he tells her, hand on her shoulder. It’s the best he can offer at this point.

“Thanks,” she answers, her voice too small for the way she holds herself. He closes his eyes as he makes his way to the door, taking a sharp intake of breath. It’s only when he’s opening the door that she goes on with, “I’m sorry about tonight. It was reckless.”

“It was,” he agrees. But he can’t blame her for it, or judge her, or any other shit like that. Because he would have done the same, in her shoes. He would have done so much worse, for the chance of finding his mother still alive and (kinda) well. They are so much more alike than either other would like to admit, after all.

As he makes his way back to his own room, he wonders how Alfred would react if he saw him now. A shake of the head and a sigh of ‘Oh, Master Grayson…’? A small, secretive smile like he does so well? Both those options are appealing and frightening at the same time. It is not today that Dick will look at himself in the mirror and see anything more than the man Bruce shaped him to be, and not the one he wanted to become.

“That’s my room.”

He startles at Kory’s voice, his clouded brain taking longer than it should to associate her words to their meaning, to the room around him. No. That is definitely not his room, fur coat thrown over a chair and golden rings on a table, her shoes by the bed. No, he definitely got it wrong there, turned left instead of right when leaving Rachel’s room, brain not even on auto-pilot as much as… barely even able to work, at this point.

He’s never been that tired in his life, and there were a couple of very intense all-nighters on the roofs of Gotham during his teenage years. But never like that, muscles so stiff and painful all at once, lungs struggling to breathe, blood that is both freezing ice and molten lava at the same time. It’s a miracle he hasn’t thrown up yet. Or collapsed. Or both.

Kory raises an eyebrow at him, after it’s been a few seconds of silence and he’s still yet to move, or to answer. She has every right to judge him, to use it as blackmail material for the rest of her life if she so wishes. God knows she would make good use of it too, given the chance.

But instead, he’s met with a wave of concern he’s only seen her offer to Rachel and Gar, standing up from her bed and slowly making her way toward him. She’s a few inches smaller without her heels, having to tilt her head up to meet his eyes. It doesn’t make her less impressive and charismatic though, owning the room like royalty. He’s stuck in her orbit, unable to move but tracking each and every of her movements as she raises her hands, one landing on his arm while the other cups his chin.

This softness is foreign to the both of them, her fingers trembling against his skin despite how warm they are. How warm she is, irradiating light and power even when she’s like this, calm, composed. It’s here, right under her skin, radiant and beautiful. Just like her.

“Are you okay?” he asks, an echo of his words in the asylum.

She is not. Her dark skin hides the bags under her eyes but he can still see the wariness in her eyes, the tension in her shoulders. She is not okay; they won’t be for a while. But she is strong, and poised, and better-than-life, so she replies, “I’ll be fine,” and she means it.

“Good,” he whispers, before his hands comes to her jaw.

Soft and delicate, he angles it slightly up to check on her neck, to caress her throat. There are no bruises blossoming her, no physical proof of harm, but still he wants to make sure she’s no longer hurting. That they didn’t leave her scarred, that her body will come back from it untouched, even if their minds aren’t. She swallows hard, throat bobbing up and down under his fingers, and he forgets to breathe.

His first thought is _I’ll kill them all for hurting you._ Until he remembers. Until smoke fills his lungs once more, eyes stinging as he stares down at the ashes of who he used to be. Robin died tonight, and with him the monsters who laid a hand on Kory, who traumatised Gar, who turned Rachel into someone she’s not. There is no justice, only the bitter taste on his tongue and the trembling of his legs.

One of his hands moves down her throat, knuckles against her collarbone, her arm, soft and careful as his fingers move down her body. She shudders lightly when his hand settles on her hip, his calluses rough against the fabric of her jumpsuit.

“Stay with me tonight,” she demands.

The air of authority barely manages to hide the flash of vulnerability in her eyes that takes him by surprise. Any other day she would pretend as if everything is fine, keep acting like she doesn’t need him or anyone else; today isn’t any other day. Today is a parenthesis in their shit show of a life, a bubble of comfort and reassurance ready to be burst.

“How honest of you,” he replies, because he’s still wired like that – the pulling and tugging of their relationship, giving as good as he gets. And fuck has he been getting it from her since the day they met; he’s never seen anyone quite like that, as stubborn and asshole-ish as he feels on a good day.

Kory snorts a reply even as she steps away from him, and it takes all of Dick’s strength and self-control not to pull her back in his arms right there. But then she’s turning around, gathering her hair above her shoulder and leaving her back bare to him, and he knows what needs to be done. Fingers cold against the fire of her skin as he pulls the zipper of her jumpsuit down.

There is nothing sensual, or even interesting, about the both of them stripping down. It’s too clinical, as he grabs a pair of sweats from his bag and throws a shirt at her, clothes falling on the floor before they both find their way to the bed.

Before he knows it, he’s lying on his side, Kory all around him – her chest against her back, one of her arm under his head while the other is tight across his stomach. He can’t remember the last time he spent the night with someone, probably because it never happened. Not like this, not this intimacy that leaves a burning taste on his tongue, making him wants to run and to bury himself into her embrace even more. Everything about Kory screams of danger. Of home.

“I don’t know who I am anymore,” he tells her after long minutes of silence. Walls shattered between them already, just for one night. He might as well stop pretending he doesn’t want to share those thoughts with her, doesn’t want her to know his deeper secrets and most powerful fears. She would understand, more than anyone else.

Kory doesn’t reply, not at first. Instead, she brands a kiss into his shoulder, lips against his skin and shiver down his spine. Sex he can do – it’s nothing but a physical urge, an itch to scratch. But this? The warmth and softness of her body, the tickle of her breath against his neck, her leg between his. This is new territory, something never experienced before. It throws him off the loop, even though he is too exhausted to properly freak out about it.

“I told you, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

Perhaps it’s the drugs still talking, perhaps he’ll come to regret it in the morning but, for now, he likes the sound of that. Figuring out who he is now that his Robin is dead; finding out who Kory really is; guiding Gar to accept himself; finally getting answers about Rachel. All of them, going through that shit. Together.

“Not in an hotel room though,” he mumbles. He only needs to slightly turn his head if he wants to kiss the inside of her elbow so he does just that, because he can. Because he wants to.

“I don’t know, Dick. I quite like it.”

And if he falls asleep with a smile on his face, well.

There’s a first time for everything.


End file.
